


Told You So

by SatanDaddy



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Book/Movie 1: The Maze Runner, Broken Bones, Gally Cares, Glader Are Family, Gladers, Grievers, Hurt Thomas (Maze Runner), In the Maze, Injured Thomas (Maze Runner), Injury Recovery, M/M, Minho is a good friend, Recovery, Role Reversal, Serious Injuries, Stuck In The Maze, Stuck In The Maze Overnight, Thomas Has A Limp, Two Shot, Vines, Violence, WICKED | WCKD (World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department), WICKED | WCKD is Good, WICKED | WCKD is Not Good, Worried Minho (Maze Runner), Worried Newt (Maze Runner), gally is nice, newtmas - Freeform, no teresa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanDaddy/pseuds/SatanDaddy
Summary: When Thomas doesn't make it back to the Glade in time, he's forced to face the nightmares of the Maze once more.And there might be more to Gally than meets the eye...Fluff and angst ensues :)
Relationships: Gally & Thomas (Maze Runner), Minho & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110
Collections: Pieces of Newtmas





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolflily22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolflily22/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never really written much ship stuff, so hopefully it’s not too awkward 😂😂  
> also, i gotta admit, the start sucks. actually this whole chapter was pre bad..

Minho and Thomas stood at the Doors, getting ready to run.

"Are we really just going to let him be a Runner?"

Thomas huffed. Gally had been complaining about it ever since he'd been named Runner.

He turned to Newt. "Is he serious?"

Newt snorted. "He's not that bad. Well, he wasn't _always_ this bad. I know this may be hard for you to believe, Tommy, but there was once a time Gally was a true friend of mine." 

Thomas looked disbelieving, and Newt shook his head, changing the subject.

"No hero stunts, ya got me?"

Thomas laughed at Newt's stern composure. "Yeah, yeah," he said, giving him a quick kiss. Then, jogging into the Maze behind Minho, he called over his shoulder, "Be back soon!"

He could practically sense the eye roll Newt threw his way and his heart fluttered.

"So, you know what you're doing?" Minho asked as they ran down the corridor.

"Yeah, I got it," he replied. 

Minho nodded. "See you later!" He yelled, turning left as Thomas took the right.

***

Running was something Thomas enjoyed. The steady heartbeat, the pumping blood through his veins, the continuous left and right, left and right. It was calming.

Thomas looked around. He’d been running for hours, seeing nothing but vines, walls and concrete. The same things, no change.

That was until he saw movement down a corridor, disappearing behind a corner. All he knew is that it wasn’t Minho.

It made his heart stop.

He stood there a moment, contemplating what to do next. His curiosity peaked, however, and he found himself running down the corridor and towards whatever he’d seen.

He stopped at the end of the corridor, peeking around the corner. He saw more movement disappear behind the end of the next passageway, and he followed it once again. The next time he looked around, though, he didn’t see anything. He must’ve fallen behind. He sprinted down the corridor, peeking around the corner when-

A Griever came charging at him, and he had to duck back behind the wall to avoid a run-in with a Griever spike.

The Griever dug it’s spikes into the ground to break it’s momentum, but ran into the wall behind him. He turned and bolted.

What were Grievers doing out at day? 

He heard the _click clacks_ of the Griever giving chase behind him and he strained his muscles to run faster. 

His heart thumped loudly and his breath came in short pants. The Griever was catching up, and Thomas tried to speed up.

He had to lead the Griever to the Griever Hole. 

He ran left, then a right and after a few more turns, he was approaching the Griever Hole. He pumped his legs faster, then when he was a few meters away from the edge of the cliff, he planted his feet down, skidding across the ground and stopping right at the edge.

His lungs heaved, his muscles feeling rubbery and exhausted. But he couldn’t rest now. 

He stood steady, ready to jump as the Griever charged forward. Closer, and closer, until finally, it was near enough.

Thomas jumped, and the Griever screeched, clawing at the ground as it began to slip off the Cliff. 

But Thomas realised too late that he was too close, and the Griever clawed once more in a last attempt to save itself, this time landing a spike into Thomas’ leg.

He screamed at the on-brought pain, but the Griever soon fell, dragging it’s spikes along his leg. He screamed again, before the Griever’s claw disappeared over the edge.

Thomas rolled onto his back, gasping at both the pain and for air. He groaned, feeling warm blood seep into the fabric of his pants and along his skin. He forced himself to sit up and examine the damage. His leg was now covered in the red liquid, and he couldn’t see past it. He ripped a part of his shirt off, tying it haphazardly around the main source of blood. 

He raised his wrist to see the time and paled dramatically. The Doors were going to close. He dragged himself to his feet, wincing at the pain it caused. He started to move towards the wall for support, dragging his leg behind him. Once he made it to the wall, he hauled his aching body back the way he’d come.

But it didn’t change what he already knew.

He’d never make it. The Doors were probably closing right now and he was still miles away.

It didn’t stop him, though.

He kept going, determination powering his actions.

He had to get back.

He had to make it.

***

The Doors closed.

And Thomas still hadn’t made it.

_Thomas hadn’t made it._

It left Newt spiralling. Anxiety clawed at him. What had happened? Was he okay? Was he hurt?

'What if’s' crowded his mind, sending him spinning out of control. 

Thomas hadn’t made it.

***

Gally huffed.

Of course, Thomas had gotten himself stuck in the Maze again.

And no one had listened to him when he told them Thomas shouldn’t be a Runner. Now, look where they were.

It’s not that he hated him. It was just a mutual misunderstanding, which turned to a mutual disliking.

“See this?” He asked, to no one in particular. “This is exactly why I said he shouldn’t be a Runner.”

”Shut up, Gally,” Minho replied, scowling, “you’re not helping no one.”

Gally shook in his head. If only they had listened.

***

He finally made it to the Doors which were, just as he’d expected, closed. He sighed, exhaustion taking over. He slumped against the Doors, falling to the ground. He’d just have to stay here until morning.

His eyelids drooped, seemingly of their own accord, and Thomas was taken by sleep.

***

Thomas woke a the familiar _click-clack_ that made his blood run cold. He was on his feet in no time, forgetting his injury and nearly falling back to the ground. He grabbed a vine to keep himself steady and looked down the corridor to where the sounds were coming from.

A Griever had seen him, and was running right at him.

Thomas cursed, turning around and grasping the vines, pulling himself up. There was no chance he was going to outrun a Griever in this state. 

Adrenaline flooding through his veins, and with a dizziness erupting in his head, he fought to keep balance and maintain speed while climbing. The Griever was reaching the wall, and Thomas didn’t know if he’d make it out of this one.

The Griever began to climb the wall, gaining distance fast. Thomas strained to keep going, but his muscles were growing tired, his hands raw from slipping, and his leg was screaming in agony.

He wasn’t going to make it out of this one.

The Griever reached out, a spike miraculously missing his skin and instead catching on the hem on his pant leg.

But it was all the Griever needed to do for Thomas to lose his grip, and he fell.

He landed on his bad leg, and he screamed. 

Then darkness began to invade his mind and the last thing he saw was the retreating form of a Griever.

***

The Gladers slept on the ground by the Doors, just like they had the first time Thomas and Minho had been trapped int the Maze. The sky was dark, and the Gladers were finally falling asleep. 

Newt looked around. Chuck lay a few feet away, his breathing evened out. Asleep. Chuck hadn’t taken the situation very well. He’d been worrying ever since his best friend had been trapped. But now, finally, he was asleep.

Though Newt couldn’t say the same for Minho and Gally, who both lay awake as well.

Newt himself couldn’t sleep either, and he wasn’t going to try. Thomas was out there, _alone,_ and Newt was safe in the Glade. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

It’d been quiet a while, maybe a couple of hours or so, when a scream rang out through the Glade. 

Newt’s eyes widened. 

Gladers around him woke, and Minho and Gally were already sitting up, frozen in place.

Whispers broke out among them. 

They all knew who it’d been.

 _Tommy_.

***

As soon as the Doors opened, everyone was there, looking hopefully out into the Maze.

There was no movement.

There was no Thomas.

Minho bolted into the Maze to find him. 

He didn't miss the blood staining the concrete floor. 

He'd barely run the first corridor when he saw it.

There, on the concrete floor, was the familiar form of his friend.

He ran forward.

Minho had expected to be looking all day; he was surprised to find Thomas so close to the entrance.

He reached Thomas in a matter of seconds.

The first thing he saw was the blood.

It covered his leg, seeping through his clothes.

But the amount of blood didn't prepare him for what the cause was.

The skin was mangled, a large, deep gash tearing through.

Minho hated to think of the run-in Thomas had has with the Griever that did this.

But that wasn't all.

Thomas' leg was twisted at an odd angle, and Minho knew right away it was broken.

He could only hope it looked worse than it was.

He stared a moment, before instincts kicked in and he was shaking Thomas awake.

Thomas groaned, but didn't wake. 

"C'mon, shuckface." He slapped his cheek lightly. "Wake up."

Thomas' eyes fluttered, then opened. 

"Min?" He asked, voice gravelly.

"Yeah, it's me. What the shuck happened?"

Thomas didn't seem to hear him, his eyes falling. 

Minho slapped him again, startling him. "Oi, stay awake. C'mon, get up."

Minho helped Thomas up, one arm around his torso and the other holding his arm to keep him upright.

They made their way back, Minho silently thanking all things good that they were so close to the Glade.

***

He saw them at the end of the corridor, Minho helping hold up Thomas. It made his stomach twist in worry.

Newt ran into the Maze to help, ignoring the rules.

He wouldn't listen to any rules for Thomas.

He made it to them quickly, almost stopping at the sight of his leg. He steeled himself and took Thomas' other arm around his shoulder.

"What happened?" He asked Minho. Thomas didn't look like he was ready to answer anything, half asleep and his face pale.

"I don't know. My best guess is a Griever. But I don't understand how he could've gotten away."

They continued in silence.

When they made it into the Glade, Clint and Jeff were already ready, a stretcher on the ground waiting.

Minho and Newt got Thomas on, and Clint and Jeff were off to the Med- jacks. 

Whispers broke out among the Gladers, and the air was tense.

Newt ran a hand through his hair and followed them, Minho in tow.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the first chapter! I read through it and realised how bad it was, but.. yeah


	2. Chapter 2

It'd been two weeks since Thomas had been bedridden in the med jacks.

Tonight was his first night back in a hammock, without the watchful eyes of Clint or Jeff, and without Newt or Minho stopping his plans of escape.

And yet, he couldn’t sleep.

Every time he tried to sleep, his leg would throb at the strange angle of the hammock, and he’d have to drag his leg over the side, where the hammock wobbled at the uneven balance. If he fell asleep like this, he’d almost certainly fall out in the middle of the night.

Which is how he found himself here, on the hard, rocky ground, shifting uncomfortably every five minutes. 

It was a miracle he even fell asleep.

But when he woke, his back ached, and his neck was stiff. His leg was no better, but it had to be less painful than the hammock.

Sighing, he sat up, massaging his goddamn leg and looking around. No one seemed to be up yet, the Glade was quiet apart from the occasional snores around him. The sun had yet to shine down on them, and he was left in a calming, grey atmosphere.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he looked around to see Gally. He tried not to groan.

”What’re you doing on the floor?” He asked, and Thomas couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or judgement in his voice.

He went to blame his leg, but didn’t want to sound petty, especially in front of Gally.

When he didn’t say anything, still contemplating what to say, Gally sighed. “It’s your leg, isn’t it?”

Thomas’ brows furrowed in confusion, and he went to ask how he'd known when Gally interrupted him. 

“I’m not an idiot. Get up, follow me.”

Thomas huffed, feeling he had no choice in the matter.

He looked around for a pole or support beam to lean on but there wasn't one he could reach. He looked back around and blinked when he saw a hand in his face. It took a moment to realise Gally was offering a hand.

He tried not to let the heat rise to his face.

He accepted the hand and followed Gally, favoring his leg.

He hoped it would get better over time, though he knew it'd take a miracle for him to become a Runner again.

Gally led him to the Builder's hut, and Thomas' confusion grew.

"Wait here," Gally told him, and disappeared inside. 

Thomas stared, bewildered, but complied.

After a few minutes of clattering inside, Gally returned, planks of wood under his arm and a toolbox in hand.

"C'mon, this way." 

Thomas huffed, still just as confused. Gally took him around the back of the hut and placed the wood on the ground. 

He didn't say anything, but opened the toolbox and got to work.

Thomas stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Was he meant to do something?

"Sit. And stay." 

Thomas sighed but sat against a pole, stretching his leg out in front of him.

It took about half an hour, and Frypan and the Runners were up and getting ready for the day.

Gally stood up, dusting off his clothes. "There. All yours." 

Thomas looked at Gally's project, dumbfounded. It didn't look like anything from his position on the ground.

Gally walked over and helped him up. 

Once he'd stood, he realised what it was. 

A bed.

Gally had built him a bed.

 _Gally_.

"What?" he asked, mentally kicking himself at how stupid he sounded.

"What, what?" Gally asked.

"What- why did- why?"

Gally looked amused at his confusion. "I'm not a horrible person, you know. I built one for Newt, too." 

And with that, Gally was walking away.

Thomas breathed a laugh.

He couldn't believe Gally had built him a bed. Gally, of all people.

He heard a laugh behind him, and he knew who it was before he even turned around.

"Thought he'd build you one sooner or later," Newt said, looking smug as ever.

"Don't say-"

"I told you so."

Thomas rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I probably missed something XD


End file.
